


Classy Trash

by sexyscientistbabe



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: College AU, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Professor AU, Submissive Character, Submissive Kylo Ren, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyscientistbabe/pseuds/sexyscientistbabe
Summary: Rose works her ass off as a student and a bartender. In her last year of studies, she's pushed to the limit by her workload and her piece of shit boss. Her monotonous life is interrupted by a sudden, powerful attraction to her charismatic physics professor. Will she be reckless enough to act on her desires?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The air was crisp, alight with the crinkling of dry leaves in an impossible array of warm tones. The flakes of bright red, deep auburn, sienna and yellow stood out like flags against a pristine aqua sky. Rose let out a huff as she pulled her black hood over a head of maroon tresses. Fall was pleasant enough, she supposed, but it always heralded the dark side of the year. The brisk winds and early evenings were the gateway to the inescapable depression that always seemed to come with winter. In years past, she’d looked forward to the beginning of fall term after a vacation during the summer. Not this year, though. No, this summer Rose had taken classes during the summer, too. She worked nights at a bar in the city. Between day classes and night shifts, she had been running ragged for far too long. But, she figured, that was life. _We aren’t born into it equal._ We have to make tough choices and work hard to get to a better place.

The lawn of the school was spotted with small packs of students, eagerly buzzing with chitchat. Rose stomped across the expanse of grass, shouldering her backpack and trying not to spill her coffee. Once inside the hall of the main building, she tucked into a corner, letting her backpack fall to the ground with a startlingly loud thump, and flicking through her phone to find the class schedule as she hungrily nursed her coffee.

PHYSICS  
Dr. Ren  
ST 188  
9 AM-10:30 AM

ST… Oh right, science and technology, she figured. Most of her classes were in the ST building now, as she’d made considerable progress on her degree. With most of the general studies out of the way, all she had time- or money- for anymore was hard science credits. The chemistry course over the summer had been particularly brutal. She’d pulled through, though, cursing and sleep deprived, with a C. Granted, one of her worse grades. Rose granted herself a small token of grace, though, considering her demanding schedule at the bar on top of her rigorous studies.

Eyeing the time furtively, Rose opened an app on her phone and scrolled for a few minutes, sipping on the hot latte. She a desired a tiny respite just for herself before she had to buckle down and take notes all day. With a sigh, she pocketed the device and lugged her backpack up, heading towards the Science and Tech building as quickly as she could.

Slipping into the lecture hall just a couple of minutes before class technically started, she glanced through the rows, looking for a seat on the edges. Rose was surprised to note that this was a packed class. _I thought I was the only one crazy enough to take physics first thing in the morning,_ she thought ruefully. She had to settle for a seat smack in the middle of the hall, towards the front of the class. Typically, she would have preferred one of the periphery positions. Though she enjoyed participating in discussions (which she knew would rarely, if ever, happen in a class of this size) she learned early in her student career that there was power in staying quiet and observing. Drawing less attention to herself at school was a welcome break from her extroverted persona at the bar.

Most everyone’s heads turned slightly as the door opened for the last time, and through it stepped an exceptionally tall man. He had shoulder length dark hair, and he looked fairly young. For a split second, Rose thought he was a straggling student, and wondered where the hell the professor was.

It was a brief second.

His stature alone commanded attention, but he was also dressed sharply. Most of the professors tended to look a little shabby, Rose had noticed, even the ones who _bothered_ to dress in suits. Not this one, though. He wore a tailored navy suit with no tie, just a soft tan button down underneath. He wore slender glasses with tortoiseshell frames that perched precariously toward the end of his defined, prominent nose.

Rose watched as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose with one thick finger.

She saw the tip of his tongue flick past his plush lips as he licked that very same finger, before thumbing through a textbook to set on the podium. She watched as those full pink lips began moving, but she didn’t hear what he was saying. All she could feel was the deep tenor of his voice curling around her in the air, and the sparkling heat that had broken out across her skin.

_What the fuck, girl, get a grip!_ She chastised herself internally.

All of a sudden, he was looking right at her. His eyes were ink-black, and _intense_ behind those cute glasses. _Why is he still looking at me?_ she wondered.

A second later, she saw many of her fellow students turn to look at her, too. Coming to attention, she blurted out, “I’m sorry, what?”

Professor Ren did _not_ look pleased, his jaw clenching. With an almost imperceptible eyeroll, he repeated himself. Rose must not have heard him, through the spell his looks had put her under. _Stupid._ “Once again, miss…?” he left the sentence hanging, allowing the tension to climb.

“Oh! Sullivan. Miss Sullivan.”

“Right. Miss Sullivan, food or drinks are not allowed in my classroom, with the exception of a sealed water bottle. There’s a trash can here.”

He gestured towards the edge of his desk. Rose instinctively glanced at his hand as he did, thinking, _Wow, his hands are huge._ Stunned at her own incredulous, idiotic, and sudden fascination with this man, she stood up sullenly and strode down the stairs, to the front, and towards the desk. The coffee cup was still half full.

Professor Ren was watching Rose, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. Rose couldn’t help but notice the way the buttons of his shirt seemed to be strained. The way he was eyeing her, with his glasses slipping down his nose, and his dark brows furrowed together in consternation, was so serious, it almost made Rose giggle at the precociousness of this man.

Holding his gaze steadily, she defiantly tipped the coffee cup back and guzzled the rest of her drink back.

It took a solid minute.

Looking him dead in the eye as she did, she felt like the pools of black gazing at her were seeing straight into her soul. She felt like he could _see_ the arousal he’d inspired in her upon sight. _Cocky son of bitch,_ she thought errantly. Rose could have sworn, though, that she’d noticed his eyes flicker to her throat pulsing as she dramatically swallowed every drop of her latte before tossing it into the can. She shot Dr. Ren a tiny, teasing glance before heading back to her place.

“Thank you for demonstrating what _not_ to do, Miss Sullivan. If you expect to succeed in my class, you are going to need to actually pay attention. Anyway, let’s get started.”

Rose sunk into her chair with a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. Tugging her notebook out of her backpack, she settled in for a slightly uncomfortable lecture.

Afterwards, the students shuffled out swiftly, eager to escape the chilly air of the broad lecture hall; not to mention the cold, indifferent air of this new professor. Rose, however, was slow to exit, numbly pocketing her supplies and packing her bag. Her mind was rolling the new information she’d learned around, like swishing wine before swallowing it.

The lecture had been absolutely _stuffed_ with facts. Dr. Ren moved fast. He wasted no time introducing his students to the basic concepts and vocabulary, so that they could move on to the complex theories as soon as possible. He expected them to keep up. Rose had been scribbling furiously, the entire class, desperate to catch every word that her handsome, eloquent professor spoke. She’d tried to quell the familiar ache between her legs that arose when she felt attraction; which was fairly often, to be real with it. But this was a little different. She’d never felt attracted to a _teacher_ before. Something about the way he’d called her out immediately, and sternly observed as she taunted him before obeying his orders, had stirred something dark and suppressed in her. She didn’t want to dwell on it. After all, nothing could actually happen between her and a professor.

It was far too dangerous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, did he see that?

“Are you serious? You need me to come in again tonight?” Rose’s voice was torn, hot tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She was pissed, but her exhaustion belied her anger. She had just been exiting the main building of the college, when she got the call from her boss. Just inside of the wide double doors, the evening was setting in, and rain pelted the windows.

“Rob just walked out on me today, just up and left! Good-for-nothing sonofabitch." he mumbled. "So I need you to come in tonight. You know I can’t run this place by myself, Rose.” Her boss' voice was shrill and tinny through the phone.

'

“Felix, do you have _any_ idea how much homework I have to do? I pulled two doubles this weekend, and I have a full schedule of classes this week. And I’m _still_ working three nights!”

“Now, sweetheart, don’t go thinking that you’re better than the rest of us just because you’re taking some goddamn classes. You make a better bartender than you ever will a... what is it, scientist? What the fuck kinda woman studies _science_ , anyway? Now, tell me you’re gonna come in tonight, or I’m gonna have to look for _two_ new hires.” Rose held the phone a good half a foot away from her face, just to manage Felix's shouts.

There was a pause laden with tension as she considered the possibility of telling him to fuck _right_ off.

How many times had he called her pet names when she’d explicitly asked him not to? How many times had he diminished her efforts as a student?

How many times had he made unreasonable demands of her time?

In her churning gut, though, she knew that she needed this job. Badly. Bartending jobs were competitive in the city, and she paid her bills with the sizeable tips. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked upwards to repress her tears. Sighing, she said, “Fine, Felix. But I have to leave at 10. I’m gonna be up all night, and I have to be in class tomorrow morning.”

There was a clattering on the other line as Felix shouted, “Great, fantastic, wonderful! You’re a real gem, Rose, you know that? One of a kind. I’ll see you at 6. And don’t wear those goddamn ugly fucking pants you wore on Sunday, wear something the customers actually want to see!” With a click, he ended the call.

Rose clenched her teeth, her lips pulled back in a wrathful grimace. She gripped her phone, her knuckles pale with rage. Out of nowhere, she chucked her phone across the hallway, shouting “Stupid MOTHERFUCKER! AAAAGHHHH!!!!"

Her phone clattered as it skidded across the tiles. She buried her face in her hands, tears _finally_ falling from her eyes and staining her plump lips with their salt.

She let herself break down. Finally. After the whole, hot, terrible summer, the whole hot terrible summer where she'd had to wear the crop tops and smile incessantly, and serve everyone cold beers, while the only thing she wanted, desperately, hopelessly, was to collapse into a lumpy couch and R E S T for just a few sacred, solid hours. The whole hot, terrible summer, now bleeding into this godforsaken fall, that only promised creaky knees and a bruised ego. C's and shrill phone calls, weak tips and chilly bike rides. Rose just let it all roll through her, and she collapsed against the brick wall, allowing it to be the only solid thing in her life. 

  
“Everything alright, Miss Sullivan?”

_Fuck._ She knew that voice. The smoothness of it cut through the maelstrom of her emotions like a hot knife through butter. Trembling, she pulled her hands away from her face and peeked up through her burgundy tresses.

Professor Ren stood a few paces from her, eyeing her with a look of bemused concern. Her phone glittered from his hand. She drank in the sight of him; his tall form outfitted in the impeccable navy suit, his long, silky black hair mussed from a long day of running his hand through it as he lectured his students, his lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together. It was as if his very presence eased all of her troubles. She felt an odd calm. Swiping the moisture from her cheeks, she wearily replied, “Yeah, I’ll be alright, Professor.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He chuckled darkly. She was mesmerized by the cheeky, self-assured smirk that he flashed. “I’ve seen far worse displays of anger, Miss Sullivan. Forgive me for intruding, but may I ask what incurred your wrath?”

The way he spoke would have sounded stiff and formal from anyone else, but his deep voice mulled over his words with intent and confidence, and it just sound natural coming from him. Rose was reminded of her unadulterated attraction to him.

“I work at a bar at nights. My boss is... a real asshole.” Her professor nodded curtly, as if he understood completely. Of course, he never could. He’d never understand what it was like to be called ‘sweetheart’, and have clothing choices criticized endlessly, and being touched without permission by customer and boss alike. But still, for a moment, Rose didn’t feel quite so alone, having someone who sympathized with her. He looked at her for a long moment. His dark eyes were piercing.

“Well,” he said, looking away. His voice suddenly sounded gruff. “I hope your boss understands that your studies are far more important than some temporary job.” Rose laughed humorlessly. “He definetly doesn’t.” she stated.

“Then he is an ass.” he huffed. Rose laughed at his comment. It was funny enough hearing her professor swear, but her animosity suddenly didn’t feel so misplaced. Stepping forward to retrieve her phone from him, she was surprised to see him take a step forward, too. He held out his hand, and their fingers brushed as they made the exchange. He glanced down. “Is that the oxytocin molecule?” he gestured to her phone case.

Rose laughed, suddenly feeling embarassed. “Yeah, it is. Huh. You recognized it really fast.”

“Well," he shifted from foot to foot, "I am a professor of science.” he said uncomfortably. His goddamn smile was disarming.

“...Right.” She smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She swayed on her feet, readying herself to leave.

But he had another question;

“Why oxytocin?”

He hadn’t moved, still standing close to her. He was so much taller than her, looking down into her eyes. She secretly loved the feeling of his height diminishing her, the way she felt small and somehow, comforted and protected by him. _Bitch what the fuck are you thinking? He's not protecting you, he's your goddamn teacher! He could give you an F tomorrow, dummy._

She felt self-conscious, unsure of why he was interested in her preference of phone case. But, as fascinated as she was by him, she wouldn’t deny his curiosity. “Well, _um,_ learning about different hormones that... like, sort of, _create_ the human experience of emotions is really what got me interested in science in the first place. Oxytocin is so fundamental to human bonding, I find it... compelling.”

**She talked with her hands, he couldn't help but notice. He liked it.**

"The love hormone.” he said softly, nodding his head.

“Yes, it’s released in such huge amounts when mammals give birth, and when we eat together, and when we have physical contact, during sex-” she suddenly bit her lip, mortified that in her stream of consciousness, she’d mentioned sex to her professor. Her professor that she was quite attracted to, no less. _I guess that’s what they call a Freudian slip?_ she wondered, mentally beating her head against a wall.

“Shit, uh, sorry.” she gasped. He held up a massive hand, his eyelids fluttering, and said, “Nothing to worry about.” There was that fucking smile again. The one that made her insides melt and her thighs clench.

Rose glanced at her phone. 4:45 pm. “Well, anyway, I have to head to work. I uh, guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” he said, running his hand through his hair. He shouldered his messenger bag and started down the hall. Rose began walking the opposite direction, toward the door.

“Get your reading done tonight!” his deep, thunderous voice called after her. “And Miss Sullivan,” she stopped, turning to look at him again. He inclined his head, his black eyes twinkling. “Remember not to bring coffee into class. I’d _hate_ to have to reprimand you again.”

She could have sworn she saw his eyes rake over her form before she turned to leave, a devilish grin decorating her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dr. Ren definitely notices that Rose did NOT follow directions... Again.

  
When Rose was in class on Thursday, she was ready.  
  
All weekend, she’d been thinking about this asshole.

_Dr. Ren_

He thought he was someone special.   
  
_How cute._

What did it matter, if his black, silky hair looked softer than hers? If his dark brown eyes were deeper than night, if his movie-star voice was more nuanced than the best film she’d seen?  
  
What did it matter, if he was so _detached?_

Rose didn’t give a single **fuck**.  
  
All weekend, she’d been focused on _homework_ and _classes_ and _work._ But in between it all, she couldn’t deny, she’d lusted after her physics professor. When she’d been rushing from Calculus to Economics, errant thoughts of her dark haired, foul-tempered teacher titillated her. She wondered if she’d run into him in the halls, and _then_ what? What would she do if she randomly collided with his brick-house, ridiculous chest? Should professors even be allowed to be that built? (No. The answer was no, she thought.) In her mind’s eye, she saw him in the moments between solving complicated chemical compositions in the lab; imagining with great chagrin what his approving grin would look like; She heard his sensual, full, exasperated sighs in the brief quiet breaks at the bar. She’d see his nose on a fresh face, she’d imagine that it was _his_ dark eyes catching hers from across the counter, when really, it was just another jock asking for a fresh beer.   
  
Throughout the week, in those idle moments when she was wiping down glasses, or restocking beers, or cleaning up her apartment, she found herself wondering about Dr. Ren. What did he do in his spare time? Was he obsessed by academics? Was that his life’s work? Or, god forbid, was he married? Did he go home to a sweet, well-meaning wife who fed him well and went on walks at the park with him while he pontificated about the nature of gravity? 

In all honesty, she was deeply embarrassed by how taken she was by him, in such a short space of time.

It’d been months since Rose had seen any action. Sure, she was a highly sexed woman; but the hookup scene was boring for her. Too many, too eager, too quickly. It was a waste of time and energy, she quickly realized. And the thing of it, was, she could have her pick of energetic young bucks, being a pretty-faced barmaid at the local watering hole. It had become boring.   
  
And then, along comes this fucking asshole, Mr. Ren. _Excuse me,_ ** _Dr._** _Ren._ Rose corrected herself internally. _He has to step in right when I’m_ ** _this fucking close_** _to getting my degree!_

So, when she saw him up at the podium again, in his comfort zone, she didn’t mind that she’d brought in _her_ sole comfort in this dim, mundane, **painful** life; the very thing that had been with her through three fucking years of classes; the thing that no other professor had cared about, because they knew she was a great student, and because they knew she was worth it; **_her stupid fucking latte.  
_**  
It was a beautiful latte.

  
Rose always got it from the same place: Espresso Express. A quick, reliable drive-through. The first few times they’d gotten her order, they hadn’t _quite_ gotten it, but once she’d made it painstakingly clear, they were consistent every single time.

The thing is, she’d been a barista, _long_ before she’d bartended.   
  
So, she knew what she liked.  


And Rose _knew_ she was a pain in the ass,because she’d served customers like herself before. 

Because of that, she felt more than happy to serve people who wanted a triple-venti-double-caramel-plus-whipped cream when she served coffee for a living, because she began to truly appreciate the value of a pristinely created cup of coffee. She began to appreciate the impact that could have on a person’s way of life.   
  
So, when Professor Ren remarked upon her 16 oz. quad-shot, oat-milk latte with half-sweet vanilla flavoring for the **second** time, Rose was ready.

The sizable class had been considerably quiet up until this point; the chamber-like hall had been all but silent, save for the soft murmurs of student’s desperately trying to catch up on last week’s lecture. His was not going to be an easy class.   
  
“Welcome back, those of you who decided to stick with it.” Dr. Ren’s voice rang throughout the semi-circular lecture hall, commanding, clear, and deep. He had dropped his blazer on his seat, and his crisp white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.   
  
Rose stared openly at his ass in black slacks while Dr. Ren wrote the outline on the whiteboard.   
  
_Fuck, why’s he gotta look like that?_ She wondered for the dozenth time.   
  
He turned slowly on his heel, pensively. Cradling his chin with one of his large hands, he mused aloud, “Can anyone tell me about the Bohr-Einsteien debate?”   
  
The lecture hall was silent, save for the occasional soft tapping of a keyboard. Rose’s eyes darted around furtively, desperate for a reason not to answer. 

After a few more silent moments, she tentatively raised her pen. For the first time in a week, their eyes locked.   
  
Her heart rate seemed to suddenly stop. His pupils were enchanting, pulling her into some kind of trance. _He’s not_ ** _that_** _good looking,_ she reasoned to herself. _In fact, he looks kinda weird._

But she knew that was a losing battle. She’d always had a thing for unconventional beauties.

“Yes, Miss Sullivan?”  
  
He’d remembered her name. It was a stupid, small thing, but in a class of 50, he’d remembered her name.   
  
“Bors and Einstein were friends. Bors challenged Einstein on several assumptions regarding physics; because of their discussions, the concept of quantum non-locality became a serious consideration in the world of physics, and was eventually proven true; well, as true as anything having to do with quantum physics can be.”  
  
Rose’s answer hung in the air like pale white linens hanging in the afternoon air to dry; billowing, catching the wind of her classmate’s attention, and her teacher’s mild perturbation. The hall was silent again, for a moment, and Dr. Ren continued to clutch his chin in his hand, his eyebrows threaded together rather seriously, as he seemed to stare at the patch of floor in front of Rose’s feet.   
  
Rose shifted in her seat. At last, he spoke.   
  
“Yes. Bors propelled the study of physics forward, and dared to doubt what were previously held as indisputable truths.” The subtle clatter of many hands typing notes punctuated Dr. Ren’s summation. As they did, Dr. Ren’s eyes swept up Rose’s legs, to the stark white coffee cup that stood, proudly erect, upon her desktop.   
  
Rose could have sworn she saw his cheeks tinge just the slightest shade of vermillion as he drank in the evidence of her defiance. Her defiance of his authority. And the conflict played out on his face quietly, _beautifully._ The almost imperceptible twitch of his eye, the quirk of his lip as he struggled to conceal a smirk, the way he nudged his glasses up his nose with one finger, covering half of his face with his hand as he did. She could practically feel the conflicting emotions within him; She was smart, she’d answered the question that none of the other students could even approach— and yet, she’d defied his rules, blatantly, for a second time.   
  
Nobody else had noticed, she could tell. They were all too exhausted to give a fuck about some trifling teacher-student rivalry. They had just figured out that drinking their coffee before 9 AM physics was a good idea.

So, when she saw him up at the podium again, she didn’t feel bad. In fact, she was ready.   
  
Dr. Ren clicked a remote and the projector screens behind him lit faintly with powerpoint that looked like the storyboards of a rather complicated crime-thriller series. “Miss Sullivan,” he said, “Will you please turn off the lights?”   
  
Though she was seated in the front row, she was near the center, and it would have made more sense to ask the kid with the purple jacket who was closest to the light panel. But as Rose sashayed to the door, she wondered if Ren was stealing a glance at her ass. The lights turned off with a heavy _click_ and when she turned to go back to her seat, she gasped in surprise at the sudden proximity of Dr. Ren.   
  
He was holding her latte. Her beautiful, still-hot, $6 latte. His eyes burned holes into hers, and he barely needed to speak for her to understand that he was pissed.   
  
**Why was he pissed? Why did she have the unique ability to genuinely piss him off,** he couldn’t help but wonder.

But, once again, Rose was ready.

“See me after class,” Dr. Ren hissed, among the subdued cacophony of the student’s pulling out their textbooks and opening to the correct page.   
  
“Then give me my coffee,” Rose rebutted, her hand darting out to grab it from him.   
  
Their hands played a goofy little dance, pushing and pulling, and ultimately the professor stepped back, tucking the coffee into the shelf on his podium, his nostrils flaring slightly, his chest puffing just a touch.   
  
Rose was both annoyed and endeared by him.   


She couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, as he articulated his meticulously crafted visual guides. His command rang in her ears like a promise: 

_“See me after class”_ ….


End file.
